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“I can’t speak for any of you,” Weiss says, breaking the tense silence, “but I would like to take this chance to actually get some rest.”
“Same.” Even as she agrees with Weiss, Yang can’t help glancing across at Blake. “Traipsing around a weird, confusing fairytale world for what feels like an eternity is surprisingly exhausting.”
Weiss rolls her eyes, and Yang’s cheeks catch fire for what must be the millionth time in the past hour.
“There’s a spare room.” Brothers, she’s still not at all used to Jaune’s voice being so deep— so world weary beyond his years. “If the two of you want some privacy.”
Yang nods, perhaps slightly too eagerly, but she can’t bring herself to care when Blake’s fingers curl a little tighter around hers, squeezing gently in a wordless gesture of approval.
“That’d be great,” Blake says, her own face flushing faintly. “Thanks, Jaune.”
As much as Yang wants to be alone with her partner again—as much as her heart is already racing and her stomach is already flipping just at the thought of it—she hesitates, looking over at Ruby, who hasn’t moved since she slammed shut the lid of the box containing Crescent Rose.
“Rubes,” she says, cautious but hopeful, “is that okay?”
It takes her sister a long moment to react, blinking slowly like she’s barely even registered the question.
“Of course.” When it eventually comes, the response sounds almost mechanical. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Because you’re clearly not okay.
Despite the knot of worry that pulls tighter in her chest for a second, Yang bites back the words, knowing all too well that trying to force the door open will only make Ruby close it completely.
When her sister’s ready to talk, she’ll be there for her, and for now, that will have to be enough.
Blake’s thumb strokes idly across her knuckles as they get to their feet, leaving her skin tingling in its wake even through the fabric of her glove, and it should probably be embarrassing that it makes Yang kind of weak in the knees, but even the smallest touches seem so much more significant now.
Still, she lingers for another beat, just in case Ruby changes her mind.
“As long as you’re sure—”
“For goodness’ sake, just go already!” Weiss cuts her off, sounding utterly exasperated as she impatiently shoos them towards the unoccupied bedroom. “And spare the rest of us from having to hear or see you making out or worse with each other instead of sleeping.”
Yang’s sure that her blush must somehow have got even brighter, but she doesn’t bother to argue, just holds the door open for Blake and closes it behind them as quickly as physically possible before Weiss can say anything else.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Yang closes her eyes, only to immediately open them when she realises that she’s wasting valuable time where she could be looking at her partner.
But no sooner has she regained her composure than she loses it again, because Blake is looking right back at her—looking at her like she’s the only thing that matters in the entire world—with the same soft, patient smile as earlier.
Earlier, when she told Yang she loves her.
Earlier, when they kissed.
“Hey.”
She thinks Blake might just have set a new record for how much affection someone can fit into a single word, and it’s overwhelming in the best way.
“Hey.”
Her own voice comes out weak and shaky, but honestly she’s proud that she managed to speak at all.
“Do you want me to help you with that?”
She follows Blake’s gaze to her left arm, thoroughly confused. It’s only a moment later when she notices Gambol Shroud already propped against the bedside table that she connects the dots.
“Oh,” she says, because having Blake anywhere near her has apparently become the most effective way to fry her braincells. “I mean… yeah, go for it!”
Blake giggles, and Yang would do anything—make a fool of herself a hundred times over—for the privilege of listening to that sound again.
With a care that takes Yang’s breath away, Blake lifts her arm, guiding Ember Celica free before stripping her of her glove.
On some level, the simple act of allowing her partner to remove her weapon for her feels nearly as intimate as Blake’s fingers curling around the lapels of her jacket, tugging lightly—
Except this time her partner just slides it off her shoulders rather than pulling her forward, letting it fall to form a crumpled heap on the floor.
Yang hopes that her gulp isn’t audible when Blake’s hand dares to move lower, lightly tracing the curve of her bicep with an almost experimental brush of her fingertips, and she discovers that she wasn’t remotely ready to feel her partner’s touch on her bare skin.
Because sure, Blake’s held her hand or pressed her forehead to hers before, but this is—
This is different.
“Can I—”
She trails off, distracted by how Blake’s eyes have turned several shades darker than normal, and settles for gesturing vaguely at her partner’s coat.
Blake nods without any hesitation, but draws her hands back to start undoing the zips and buckles herself.
“It’ll be easier if I do it,” she says, as if there was ever the slightest chance of Yang complaining about her taking her clothes off. “And faster.”
A few seconds later she’s tossing her coat onto the chair in the corner, and Yang’s throat goes as dry as the Vacuan desert in the full glare of the midday sun.
As her eyes wander over skintight leather, she wonders if she might actually be in danger of spontaneously combusting.
But of all the ways to die, this would be a pretty good way to go.
Blake reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, ears twitching anxiously, and Yang steps forward, full of the same nervous anticipation she felt crossing that wooden bridge in the clouds.
“You’re beautiful, Blake,” she murmurs, another confession that she’s never made out loud before. “Inside and out.”
Blake’s arms loop around her neck, fingers weaving idly through her hair, and Yang’s hands slide almost instinctively around her waist to draw her close— so close that she would only have to tilt her head to close the distance.
It already seems so natural to hold her this way that she can hardly believe this is only the second time.
“I could say the same to you.”
And then Blake’s kissing her— kissing her slowly and deeply and, gods…
Yang has no idea what she did in a past life to deserve this, but whatever it was, she’s so, so glad she did it.
“I love you.”
It’s almost painful to pull away enough to get the words out in a breathless whisper, but it’s more than worth it when Blake smiles ever so slightly into the next kiss.
“I love you too.”
Then one of them overbalances—Yang can’t tell who—and they land on the bed in a clumsy, giddy rush of movement.
Blake uses the momentum to roll them over into a more comfortable position, and after a brief beat of stillness they both burst out laughing.
Before she can stop herself, Yang blurts out the first thing that crosses her mind.
“I think I just fell for you.”
With an exaggerated groan, Blake pushes herself up, bracing her hands against the mattress on either side of Yang’s head.
“Really, Yang?”
Yang opens her mouth to reply, but she’s suddenly very aware that Blake is on top of her, straddling her, and the power of speech fails her.
Luckily, though, she’s saved from having to try and string a whole sentence together when Blake decides that kissing her again is the best way to stop her from making another terrible pun.
Except that it’s not soft or gentle anymore.
It’s insistent and demanding and so fucking good.
Yang’s fingers flex restlessly, pulling Blake’s hips flush against hers entirely by accident, and Blake makes this sound, halfway between a gasp and a moan, that sends pleasure shivering through her in a flash of heat.
She feels utterly intoxicated, her head spinning with Blake’s warmth, Blake’s scent— Blake’s everything.
It’s the only kind of drunk she’d ever like to be.
It’s exhilarating, and terrifying, and just… so much.
Too much for one day.
When she breaks the kiss, panting for breath, Blake’s eyebrows scrunch together adorably in concern.
“Sorry.” She bites her lip, which does nothing to help Yang get her hormones under control. “I— I got carried away.”
Yang shakes her head, struggling to find the right words with her brain operating at half speed.
“So did I.” She huffs out a dazed laugh. “That was really, really hot, okay? But also… more than I can handle right now.”
To her surprise, Blake looks more relieved than disappointed.
“Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready for that either.” She pauses, her voice lowering. “But I— I never imagined I’d actually get to have this, so now that I do, part of me doesn’t want to wait.”
Yang runs a reassuring hand along the length of Blake’s spine.
“I mean, I’m not saying we should stop. Just… slow down a little.” She leans up to steal the most tender, chaste kiss she’s capable of. “Cause you do get to have me, Blake. For as long as you want.”
They’re woken the next morning by someone banging loudly on the door.
“If you two have finally finished fornicating in there, we have things to do!”
Still half-asleep, Yang doesn’t have the energy to correct her, so she satisfies herself with curling further into Blake, lazily raising her middle finger in the vague direction of Weiss’ voice without even opening her eyes.